


to grow up in a city of smoke and sound

by raydiosighlent



Series: the adventures of dumb skyrates as told by mr. ray dio [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Not Beta Read, Post-Apocalypse, Skyrates, but someone on the discord made a server version and its really cool so thank you PogChamp, cause im lazy, except not yet, i think, im gifting this to havok cause they made the skyrates au, like some people have powers and whatever and its really sick but i dont really comprehend it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24367585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raydiosighlent/pseuds/raydiosighlent
Summary: “Build me up and break me down until I’ve got a melody developing. And maybe this will be the one to break me in the Top 40 in the morning. And maybe all the noise will leave, I’ll be relieved, I guess I’ll give it a try.”-In which Ray lives in a world of no-ones.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), just me me me and my fake thoughts
Series: the adventures of dumb skyrates as told by mr. ray dio [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759363
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9
Collections: Skyrates from Knowhere





	to grow up in a city of smoke and sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WreakingHavok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/gifts).



> Ok, some context on the summary quote. That's from my absolute favorite song Radio by Johnny Manchild and the Poor Bastards. They're a stupidly underrated and unknown band and if you see this you should really check them out. Also this song slaps hard and it's super jazzy and groovy and everything. It kinda works with the story if you squint, but I'm not buying it.

* * *

As the sun went up and the night went to sleep, Ray finally made up his mind.

-

For as long as he could remember, the days would fall past the skyline- one after another. Each one getting swept up and away by the cold, dark smoke of his factory city, forever damned to drown forever in irregular regularness.

He never thought anything was wrong until he was ten. 

He never thought twice about the smoke filling his lungs with ash and parents that gave him a name that never went to use. 

The former was standard for his city, a giant heaping cloud of industrial workers who never made enough to do anything but survive. Truthfully speaking, he couldn’t see anything truly wrong with the haze over his eyes until much, much later. 

What was obviously wrong was the parents thing. 

By the time he could walk, they were gone to the city. Husks of workers that would regret the decision of paying for a child for the entirety of their existence. 

Birthdays passed and holidays went, and they were still gone; there in body, but gone in spirit. 

At age six he realized he had powers and never thought to tell his parents. It’s not like they would’ve heard anyway.

When the city started getting antsy with powers, he was thankful for never having anyone to share his curse with prior. 

At age eight he learned the secret to attention, making others enjoy your presence.

Soon after on another day of endlessly looking at the soot-filled sky from his pitiful excuse for a window, he decided he wanted to have attention. 

Much more than want in fact. It was a craving that ate at his bones and clouded his brain much more than the smoke in the clouds. 

He left his guardian’s apartment for the first time in years on that day. Wandering into the streets of the city, looking for love.

Who cared that the threads of the fraying signs and clothes around him cocked their heads towards him as he walked. 

He was subtle about his powers, but obnoxiously blaring about everything else. 

He molded his voice into a loud, booming sound and finally had a perk from his height in being able to stand out more; he crafted himself as a pool for attention. 

The harder part was forming a personality that everyone could love. So he took the easier option and crafted many to cover all his bases.

There is where Ray was born and whatever he was before was discarded. 

-

He had heard a song once, before all the sound systems in the city became too costly for his poor home. He doesn’t remember the song at all; it had faded away in his memory against the blinding factory buildings in his memory.

What was truly intriguing to him was the device to power it. Instead of needing to make music by hand, he only had to press a button to turn on a bright red little box.

A radio is what he’s told it’s called. 

He wanted to have that energy; power to blare a message for thousands to hear. In his quest for attention, the radio stood out as something that had succeeded in reaping his craving. 

Dio would be a dumb name, and Ra was just stupid. So he used his own obnoxious flare to craft a name out of a tiny metal box.

And that was the last time he did truly something by his own choice.

-

That is until his world floated up and away into the soot-stained sky.

When he was fourteen he was ready for a start.

He had a mass around him that he thought less of as people and more as a crowd of dolls. Then the outcry against powered people became a constant thundering of dread and he was given a decision.

Stay and die or try to escape and die- except he had a chance of living in fleeing.

To say the choice was easy is an understatement- and that was truly a sentiment from himself.

So in a blur of days and guns and running he was suddenly in front of a large airship and preparing for change yet again.

  
And at age fourteen- he found home.

**Author's Note:**

> That was really really short and convoluted so I apologize. I just wanted it to sound as pretty and flowey and deep as possible without giving too much information. Also this was a writing warm-up so there's my excuse.


End file.
